You tell that fox

Dearly Beloved,

Grace and Peace to you.

They told him “Herod wants to kill you.”
He said, “Go and tell that fox for me,
I do my work, and on the third day I finish.
…
Jerusalem, Jerusalem… How often have I desired
to gather your children together
as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…”
—from Luke 13. 31-35

Jesus, my man, my hope, my strength,
why did you have to go and say that?
My Lord, my Resurrection,
you know I want to love you,
the tender one who always rises
victor, to the top.
You know I want to trust in you
to give my life for something large,
to follow you forever,
like the sun rises forever,
like the river flows forever.
You know I want you, Lord.
Why don’t you be a lion,
roaring over her cubs,
why not a mother bear
nobody wants to mess with?
Why not be mighty? Why not last?
Oh, Jesus, Jesus, don’t make me weep
for you weeping over us like that.
Not like that.
Why tell that fox, that fox,
his bullying eyes, his greedy teeth,
why tell that fox you want to be
a mother hen?